


take me to love

by WickedForGood13



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Declarations Of Love, F/M, Lady Knights, Male-Female Friendship, Marriage of Convenience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2501462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedForGood13/pseuds/WickedForGood13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arwen has departed Middle-earth for the Undying Lands, releasing Aragorn from his promise to her and leaving him desolate at the loss of his love.  In spite of his heartbreak, Aragorn knows that as king he has a responsibility to marry, thereby securing the future of his line — and Gondor’s throne.  </p>
<p>For his bride he chooses Éowyn, who weds him knowing full-well that her husband long-ago gave away his heart to the Evenstar of the Elves and that he will never love her as she deserves. </p>
<p>But the hearts of Men are ever-changing, and as the one-year anniversary of his marriage to Éowyn approaches, Aragorn finds himself open to the possibility of loving again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take me to love

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : I own nothing.
> 
> **Author's note** : While recently watching the Trilogy, a thought struck me: what if Arwen had followed through with her intention to sail for Valinor and Aragorn had married Éowyn instead? I scrambled for a pen and paper, metaphorically speaking, and this story was born. My thanks, as always, are due to [HarmonyLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmonyLover/pseuds/HarmonyLover), without whose encouragement and support I would be lost.

To all appearances, the wedding of Aragorn and Éowyn was a happy time, an occasion for much joy and celebration. But though the bride was a vision of beauty, her gown a becoming shade of ivory with seed-pearls sewn onto the bodice, Aragorn could only think of his elven-love sailing away, forever beyond his reach across the sea.

Out of love for her father, Arwen had ultimately given in to Elrond’s demands that she travel to the Undying Lands, there to live out all the rest of her days in peace. But by her sailing, Arwen abandoned Aragorn, her sworn love, to rule alone. As king of Gondor and ruler of Men, Aragorn was expected to wed and produce heirs to carry on his line. Yet his acquaintance with women was limited: having been devoted to Arwen since youth, Aragorn was at a loss as to who should be his bride.

His choice, in the end, was Éowyn, daughter of a noble house who had won renown in her defeat of the Witch-king, thereby proving herself a capable warrior with all the qualities that Aragorn sought in a queen who would have to rule in his stead when battle called him away from the White City.

He paid court to Éowyn as she rested in Gondor’s Houses of Healing. He sat with her and talked of many things, explaining how their marriage would be one of convenience rather than a love-match. He told Éowyn of her duties and what would be expected of her as both his wife and queen. She was silent for a long time and then, without a word, rose to her feet and glided from the room. Aragorn followed and found her in the gardens.

“What say you, Éowyn?” he asked, grave in his tone and manner. “Can you accept me knowing that my heart will forever belong to another?”

She responded in kind, her voice as grave as his. “I accept your suit, my lord. Though you offer me little affection, I will nonetheless bind myself to you till the end of my days.”

Though he felt no passion for Éowyn, Aragorn was touched by her willingness to marry a man who had made it plain that he could never love her as she deserved. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles with a reverence that would rarely be seen in the days that followed.

“I _do_ care for you, Éowyn,” he hastened to assure her, “and I do love you, in my own way. You’re a fine woman and a fierce warrior. Any man would be lucky to call himself yours. I am more fortunate than most, in that you have consented to wed me above all others who may have offered you their hand.”

“There is no need for flattery, my lord Aragorn,” Éowyn replied, “If I am to be subjected to little warmth or affection from you, best that I become accustomed to such treatment from the start.” Aragorn was taken aback at her bold and rather cynical declaration, but quickly recovered himself as she continued, “We are to be man and wife. When shall we wed?”

Their wedding — and Éowyn’s subsequent coronation — was set to take place shortly following Aragorn’s own ascension to the throne of Gondor. Everyone turned out to see the Hope of Men, as Aragorn had come to be called in the days following the triumphant conclusion to the War of the Ring, wed the shieldmaiden of Rohan who had defeated the Witch-king in the Battle of Pelennor Fields. The Fellowship was represented in full, with Gandalf presiding over the ceremony. Even the hobbits, who had yet to journey back to the Shire, were present as well, while Legolas bore the gold wedding bands that Aragorn and Éowyn would exchange, and Gimli carried on a velvet pillow the circlet that Éowyn would wear as queen.

It was customary for the bride and groom to partner for the first dance, which Éowyn and Aragorn did. Afterwards, they were free to dance with whomever they wished. Éowyn was quickly swept away from Aragorn and into the arms of his council, whose members Éowyn sought to court, for they had long been loyal to Denethor, the late Steward of Gondor, and might make trouble for Aragorn. As both his wife and queen, it now fell to Éowyn to ease the way for Aragorn to ratify what laws and treaties he willed.

With the completion of her queenly duties, Éowyn was free to take a turn about the room with Legolas, who sought her company and conversation.

“How fairs my lady, queen of Gondor?” he inquired.

“I am well, Master Elf,” Éowyn replied, for she did not know Legolas as well as she ought. Though he had spent some weeks at Edoras, and later at Helm’s Deep, her gaze had been on Aragorn rather than his companions.

“I would have us be friends, Lady Éowyn,” said Legolas.

“As would I.”

“Then tell me this: why did you agree to become Aragorn’s wife when you must know that he continues to pine for the Evenstar?”

“Maybe I am merely a woman in love, willing to take what scraps of affection I am thrown, hoarding them as though they were the most precious of jewels. Or maybe what I desire is power, to rise in rank from that of princess to queen. Think of me what you will, Legolas, and divine for yourself what my motives are.”

“Lady, I meant no offense,” Legolas protested. “I thought only of your well-being, to ensure that you entered into this partnership with your eyes wide-open.”

“I assure you, Legolas: my eyes _are_ open. I know what I’m doing.” When Legolas still appeared skeptical, Éowyn put a friendly hand on his shoulder and squeezed, much as she had seen Aragorn do. “I love him dearly, Legolas, and would help him however I can. Even if I am seen as little more than a vessel for his offspring. I have my renown to satisfy me, my hard-earned glory. And as queen, I will be in a position to do much good for my people. I am content.”

“But will you be happy?” Legolas wanted to know.

“Only time will tell,” Éowyn observed. “If you choose to remain in the White City, mayhap you can instruct me on the finer points of archery, for I much desire to learn.”

“Consider me at your disposal, my queen,” said Legolas with a courtly bow, and he took his leave of Éowyn, pausing only to speak a few words to Aragorn, whose approach he had noticed.

While the people of Gondor continued to celebrate their king and queen’s marriage until the early hours of the morning, the newlyweds left the revelers to their festivities and retreated to Éowyn’s private chambers. Their wedding night was short and less-than sweet. Aragorn had a duty to perform; that was all. Though a considerate partner, and gentle, he took no pleasure in making love to Éowyn. Once he had achieved his release, Aragorn then took leave of his new wife, retiring to his own chambers further down the hall.

Éowyn lay motionless in bed with the sheets pooled around her, bereft at her husband’s absence. Aragorn’s hasty departure had stung, hurting Éowyn more than she had anticipated. Though she had known to expect less than Aragorn’s all, Éowyn had still hoped for more affection than she had received.

In the face of her disappointing wedding night, Éowyn now resigned herself to a life without love and gravitated to another lonely soul: that of Faramir, brother of Boromir and son of Denethor. A great friendship soon blossomed between them, first begun in their shared days at the Houses of Healing, and borne out of a mutual interest in lore and warfare.

To Faramir, Éowyn spoke of her childhood and watching her mother fade from grief at having lost her father. She shared with Faramir how she and Éomer had gone to live with their uncle, Théoden-king, and how she’d grown to womanhood in the city of Edoras, staging mock-battles with her brother and cousin Théodred and racing them across the plains on horseback. In his turn, Faramir spoke to Éowyn of Boromir, who had been his most cherished companion in childhood and remained dear to him even in death.

“As Théoden remains so to me,” Éowyn replied. “I was so young when my own parents died — only seven years old — that I can barely recall them anymore. In all the ways that matter Théoden is my father, though Éomer and I are not of his body, while Théodred became another brother to love and chase after.”

“Boromir was my elder by five years,” said Faramir. “But he never lorded his age over me. We were brothers both in blood and bond, playmates and protectors in equal turn. Not a day passes that I don’t miss him, or wish that we could be together one last time: to hear his laugh again, to see his smile. . .”

Éowyn took Faramir’s hand in hers and smiled at him with compassion. They once more commenced walking together in silence as he struggled to regain his composure.

“The worst,” Faramir continued at long last, “was that our father openly favored Boromir and made no secret of his low regard for me. The last time we had words together, Denethor even confessed to me that he wished our places had been reversed: that Boromir had lived and I died.”

Gondor’s Steward bowed his head in pain and closed his eyes to conceal the tears building behind the lids.

“I never cared for myself. Though I fought to gain our father’s notice, I did so for the sake of Boromir alone, so that perhaps he would no longer be put in the middle of mine and Denethor’s disputes. For I knew how it pained him to see me so slighted and be able to do nothing, and I would spare him what pain I could. Always has it been with us.”

“And in my family also,” said Éowyn. “Often have Éomer and Théodred sought to shield me when I would not be spared. And Théoden, who would have me sit quietly at home, safe from all harm. . . But in the end, I could not save even him. It is a heavy burden — to know that I might have prevented his death and yet I did not!”

“And bear it you do admirably well, my queen,” said Faramir, albeit with a puzzled mien, “But what of Aragorn? Does he not ease your troubled mind? Why confide in me?”

“Yours is a sympathetic ear that my lord husband lacks,” Éowyn admitted. “Our marriage is one of convenience rather than love. Or had you not heard? Lord Aragorn gave his heart away long ago to one of the Firstborn: an elf-maid known as the Evenstar.”

“I have heard of Arwen Undόmiel and of her great beauty. But I had not heard of our king plighting his troth with the likes of _her_.”

“But it is true,” came a voice from behind them. The pair turned to discover Aragorn himself striding along the path in their wake. “I met Arwen in my youth and fell instantly in love. And though we were parted for many years, we eventually came together again and promised to wed. But love for her father overcame her love for me and she sailed for Valinor, never to return.” Shrewd eyes met Éowyn’s defiant glare; she was almost daring him to comment on her being with Faramir unchaperoned. “Come, wife,” he said, holding out his arm for her to take. “We must away to the council.”

“Good-day to you, Lord Faramir,” said Éowyn, inclining her head to him in farewell.

In the days to come, Éowyn deemed it wise to distance herself from Faramir, for she had not liked the look in Aragorn’s eyes when he had found them together. Rather than stroll through the gardens with Faramir, as had been their wont, Éowyn instead busied herself with matters of state, though in a more roundabout fashion than she would have preferred.

Éowyn made it known to Aragorn’s council as a whole that they were invited to take tea with her in her own private chambers. The council members were charmed by their young queen’s lively and engaging manner, and so they were often to be found in conference with Éowyn, who wore her prettiest dresses and put in a sincere effort to look her best. Soon, all that Éowyn had hoped for came to pass: rather than clinging to old loyalties, Aragorn’s council members embraced the changes that their new king had brought to the kingdom of Gondor with his rule. And so it was through subtle manipulations, aided by no small amount of flattery, that Éowyn exerted her influence by wielding a teapot rather than a sword, though her tongue remained as sharp as any blade.

But Éowyn’s days were filled with more than tea parties and garden-walks. She continued to hone her skills with blade and bow alike, training for battle as was her right as a shieldmaiden of Rohan. Though there were some within the walls of the White City who might object to their queen acting in such a manly manner, Aragorn smiled indulgently and let his wife have her way. He knew better than most that to cross Éowyn was a matter of life and death.

Legolas, meanwhile, having remained in Gondor at his old friend Aragorn’s request, passed many hours in Éowyn’s company, and together they wandered the desolate plains between Minas Tirith and the City of Ithilien — and beyond, for Éowyn much desired to learn the art of healing, and the herbs that she and Legolas sought were not always easy to find.

As they walked, Éowyn discovered much about the ways of Elves, and learned from Legolas about the manner of life he had led in Mirkwood. He told her of his encounter with Thorin Oakenshield and his company of dwarves, which had included Gimli’s father Glόin.

“Gimli much resembles him, both in looks and character,” Legolas recalled, “although I was less-than complimentary — of both father and son — at the time.” At Éowyn’s inquiring look, he elaborated, “I have been friends with Aragorn since he was a young child — practically a babe in arms, still — recently arrived in Rivendell. The truth of his lineage was kept from him until he came of age, at which point he rebelled against what he saw as a life that he’d had no say in choosing for himself.

“Estel, as he was called then, was very dear to me. Almost more so than my own family. I had never been shown much affection from my father, and as a result I haven’t always known how to relate to others on a personal level. But Estel was different; he has always been so. I let him into my heart and opened myself up to this strange Human child as I have rarely ever done. His act of rebellion, therefore, hurt me deeply, for it meant our separation — perhaps for many years at a time, the life of a Ranger being far from stable.

“You may well wonder why I tell you this, Éowyn. It is because Aragorn’s departure changed something in me. With his loss I became cold and unfeeling. I no longer cared about anything but killing as many Orcs and spiders as I could. Killing such Dark creatures offered me an outlet for my frustration and rage at what I saw as a personal betrayal: Estel’s abandonment of his closest friend. Because I no longer had my Estel with me, I was disdainful of others and dismissed what they held dear. Hence my attitude towards Glόin, who chanced upon me only a few short years after Aragorn’s departure.”

“You and Aragorn certainly make for a finely-matched pair,” Éowyn observed. “I’ve seen you two in action on the training grounds: you’re both so fluid, and you seem to know what the other one is going to do before a single move is even made!”

Legolas also shared with Éowyn his own experiences on the battlefield, and she commiserated with him about lost companions. “They are in a better place now; we _must_ believe this,” she said with conviction. “Else we’ll spend an eternity torturing ourselves with what we could have done differently and how our choices affected their actions. We’ll never be happy or at peace until we let go of the past.”

There was one thing that Éowyn could not let go of, though, and that was her rival for Aragorn’s affections: Arwen Undόmiel, the Evenstar of the Elves. She could hardly ask Aragorn about his former sweetheart, and so after many months of marriage Éowyn finally found the courage to approach Legolas, who must surely have known Arwen before she sailed.

“Tell me about Arwen,” she said to Legolas one day as they walked from Minas Tirith to Ithilien.

“What would you like to know?” he asked politely, on his guard so as not to betray anyone’s confidence.

“Anything. Everything. I want to get a sense of her character, so that I might have a more complete image of the ghost that I’m competing with.”

“Arwen was lovely, absolutely lovely. An enchanting creature on all counts. She could often be found reading. She was very fond of books. And of music: she played both the harp and the flute. She would much rather ride her horse and improve her swordsmanship, though, than to sit still for any length of time.”

“She sounds like a formidable opponent and a fine partner for the King of Gondor,” Éowyn mused wistfully. “She would have made a remarkable queen.”

“No less so than you, madam,” said Legolas, playfully bowing and dropping to one knee. “My lady Éowyn — where once I offered my services to Arwen, I now offer myself to you, completely and unreservedly. My bow is yours to command where you will.” Éowyn held out her hand for Legolas to kiss. He smiled up at her and rose to his feet. “My friendship with Estel was the making of me, as it will be with you also, I believe. Humans are remarkable creatures: you live for so short a time yet you manage to do and make so much of yourselves. I continue to be astounded by your resilience.”

A new understanding was reached by both Human and Elf that day, and Legolas now took up his post as Éowyn’s tutor in the matter of archery, of which he was a master even by elven standards. Under his patient tutelage Éowyn’s skill quickly improved, until she and Legolas were holding shooting matches by the day — and triumphing over all comers!

It was through these archery contests that Éowyn first met Gwendolyn, who expressed an admiration for Éowyn’s prowess and dared to share with Éowyn her own ambition of going to war and fighting in great battles, winning renown and glory for herself so that across the whole of Middle-earth, all would know her name. Éowyn was taken aback to hear words that she herself had spoken not so long ago, and she took an immediate liking to the girl.

“Come with me,” she said to her. Gwendolyn eagerly followed along behind Éowyn, who led her by the hand to first the armory and then to the stable block, where they would be afforded some measure of privacy.

“You are not the first to come to me for help,” said Éowyn as she stood behind Gwendolyn to shear off her long black locks. “But I must warn you,” she said as she clipped and snipped away with the scissors, hair falling around the women’s feet in clumps. “War is not for the faint of heart, nor is it to be taken lightly. You will suffer great losses, maybe even someone close to you. But life goes on and you must go along with it. Though your heart might ache all the rest of your days, you are stronger than the pain and you will conquer. Can you do this?”

As she had been speaking, Gwendolyn twirled about in circles so that Éowyn might bind her chest with a bolt of cloth. She now stood still, fully clad in the garb of a Gondorian soldier, having shed her dress in favor of a leaf-green tunic. “Yes, my lady,” she replied seriously. “I’m strong enough; I know that I am. All I’ve ever wanted, it seems, is to fight. Please give me this chance!”

Éowyn nodded once in satisfaction. “Henceforth you shall be known as Gwillim,” she declared. “Now come and I will take you before Faramir, Captain of the Guards and Gondor’s Steward.”

“Another of your fair cousins for me to train as a soldier, my queen?” asked Faramir when Éowyn introduced the two. She grinned unrepentantly, for Gwen was not the first she had helped to disguise her female-ness, as Faramir well-knew. He smiled fondly at Éowyn, for he loved her, as did all who met the White Lady of Rohan. “One day, lady, I hope that the maidens of Gondor may fight openly to defend their home and loved ones. In the meantime, shall we give this fledgling new recruit a demonstration of what is expected from Gondor’s finest?”

“An excellent suggestion, Captain,” said Éowyn, a predatory gleam already shining in her eyes.

Having anticipated Faramir, Éowyn had brought along a change of clothes, which she now slipped into. Picking up her favored sword and a shield, she strode confidently out to the middle of the practice-field and sank into a fighting stance, awaiting Faramir’s attack. He came at her hard and fast, immediately putting her on the defense and forcing her to employ all of her considerable skills with a blade.

In the midst of their bout, Faramir called out towards the sidelines, “Dernhelm, come!”

A young lad, not much older than Gwen, bounded over to join forces with Faramir against Éowyn. With the attack now doubled, Éowyn was at a distinct disadvantage; but rather than surrender, she continued to fight as if she were facing the Witch-king of Angmar again. Ducking and twirling until her sword and shield were little more than a blur, Éowyn at last succeeded in disarming Dernhelm, while she and Faramir ended the bout in a stalemate with their swords held against each other’s necks.

“Well met, Lord Faramir,” Éowyn complimented him after disengaging their blades.

“Likewise, my queen,” Faramir replied, once more sheathing his sword and inclining his head to her in a show of respect.

Smiling briefly at him, Éowyn gestured for Gwen to join the trio clustered around the middle of the field. “Gwillim,” she said, purposely using her assumed name to remind her of the deception they were performing. “This is Dernhelm. I think you’ll find that you two have a lot in common.”

Eyeing Éowyn, and then each other, Gwillim’s face lit up with joy. “Then I’m really not the first!”

“I should say not,” Dernhelm agreed. “Her Majesty’s female recruits are Gondor’s worst-kept secret. Even the king knows about us and does nothing to disband our merry little group! Come, I’ll see that you get settled in your quarters.”

“Thank you, madam,” said Gwillim, assuming the role of besotted soldier and bending low over Éowyn’s hand.

“It’s been a pleasure, Gwill, and I hope to see you around. After you’ve been in training for a while, perhaps you would consent to spar with me.”

“I look forward to it, my queen!”

With a wave, Gwillim and Dernhelm walked off, arms around each other’s shoulders, leaving Éowyn and Faramir to watch their progress until they were out of sight. No sooner had they turned the corner of the stable block than a sharp voice rang out across the courtyard: “Éowyn!”

“Pardon me, Faramir, but my lord and master calls and I must answer him.” Still clad in the garb of a soldier, Éowyn crossed the castle’s keep to where Aragorn stood waiting for her, his brow wrinkled with lines of irritation while he tapped his foot impatiently. “You summoned me, my husband?” she inquired sweetly.

“Have you no shame, wife?” he hissed at her. “On our wedding day, you vowed to honor me as both your husband and liege-lord. Before all of Gondor you so swore — and I would hold thee to those vows!”

“I have done nothing of which I am ashamed,” Éowyn retorted sharply. “I continue to honor you — and the vows that I made, which I hold in the highest regard. Of what do you accuse me? I would have you speak plainly, Aragorn.”

“As you wish, lady,” said Aragorn with a seemingly mournful sigh. “I accuse you of harboring romantic feelings for Lord Faramir.”

“I do not care for him in that way!” Éowyn protested. “It’s impossible!”

“But he cares for you,” said Aragorn.

“I cannot speak for his heart, only for mine. I love but one — and that is you, my lord. I always have, as well you know.” And with that, Éowyn turned on her heel and strode off, leaving her husband to contemplate the manner of woman he had married.

Where normally Éowyn appeared to glide, she now stomped, marching angrily up the stairs of Minas Tirith and into the royal apartments. Curse the man! How dare he lay such a vile and untrue claim at her feet when she had given up _everything_ for him: her homeland, her happiness, even a chance at being loved by her marital partner instead of merely tolerated.

While Aragorn was respectful and afforded Éowyn every courtesy in public, their private life left something to be desired. She had known when she agreed to his proposal that she was settling for less than she deserved. Though she loved Aragorn wholeheartedly, and had since first he rode through the gates of Edoras and into her life, Éowyn had been wise enough to see that despite the elf-maid’s absence, it was Arwen who would continue to hold sway over the king’s heart, while she, Éowyn, would forever be Aragorn’s second choice. Swallowing her pride, Éowyn had nonetheless agreed to marry Aragorn and become his queen.

And though she did not regret her choice, for she derived much pleasure and satisfaction from her duties as Aragorn’s consort, Éowyn still found herself longing for more affection from her husband than she was accustomed to receiving. If only he felt for her a fraction of what he did for Arwen. But there was little point in hope or dreams, not anymore. She had made her bed and must now lie in it.

“Alienor!” called Éowyn as she entered her private suite of rooms. Her sole lady-in-waiting, a young maid of no more than sixteen years, appeared from where she had been tidying Éowyn’s closet and bobbed a curtsey. “I wish to take a bath. Please prepare the water and attend me.”

“Yes, my lady,” Alienor replied, bobbing another curtsey and scurrying off to do her mistress’s bidding.

While Alienor was occupied elsewhere, Éowyn shed her outer garments and left them strewn about the floor. Though she would possibly feel guilt later for creating even more work for Alienor to perform, Éowyn had by now become accustomed to a certain way of living, though often back in Edoras she had done work expected of a servant. No more, though. The queen of Gondor would not lift a finger more than was necessary.

Unashamed of her nakedness, Éowyn crossed the room to her bathing chamber and slid into the tiled tub. Here was luxury beyond compare: hot-and-cold running water that could be adjusted with only the turn of a faucet. Back in Edoras water was heated over a fire and then poured, pail by pail, into a tub that could barely accommodate a young woman, much less a fully-grown man! Éowyn sighed in contentment as the warm water lapped at her neck and she closed her eyes, dozing as Alienor scrubbed at her delicate skin.

Rising at long last, Éowyn held out her arms and allowed for Alienor to slip on her dressing-gown. She wrapped a towel around her hair and was rubbing absentmindedly at the roots when she chanced to glance up and saw Aragorn standing by her bed, looking far from at ease.

“A visit from my husband. You honor me with your presence, my lord. Thank you, Alienor — that will be all,” she said, dismissing her lady-in-waiting with the casual wave of a hand. Once she and Aragorn were alone, she addressed him more coolly than she would have otherwise. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, sire?”

“Please, Éowyn,” he implored, reaching with outstretched hands for hers, but she snatched them away and moved so that the bed stood between them. “I deserve no less,” he remarked at seeing the barrier Éowyn had created. “I came to apologize for the words I spoke to you earlier. I had no right, and it was unjust of me to accuse you and Faramir without solid proof beyond that of my own eyes. I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

“Is that all? I wonder that you took the trouble to come so far out of your way!” Éowyn exclaimed. “I thought the king of Gondor rarely ventured from his throne-room!”

“I came to apologize for more than my rash words of this afternoon,” Aragorn admitted readily. “I want to apologize for my abominable behavior towards you since the start of our marriage, now some eight months past. I’ve been unfair to both of us, but most especially to you.”

“And do you have some manner of explanation for this treatment of which you speak?” Éowyn inquired in what she hoped was a casual manner. In her new role as queen, with the eyes of all Gondor on her, she had quickly learned that it was better to show less of what she felt than more — even with her own husband!

“I do, my lady,” Aragorn replied, responding to her grave and formal tone, and answering in like manner. “Would you care to sit?” he asked, gesturing to the bed between them.

Wordlessly Éowyn followed his direction and took a seat on the bed. Once she was comfortable, she gestured for him to continue. “Speak, if you can find the words with which to defend your actions.”

“I shall try, lady,” Aragorn promised her. “First, you must understand how utterly I revered Arwen; I worshipped the very ground she walked on. Ultimately, I placed her on so high a pedestal that there was little else for her to do but fall. But I realize now that my love for her was shallow and false, as was Arwen’s love for me. Our romance was no more than a dream, a mere flight of fancy. She never loved the ranger, only the king. Unlike you, my dear wife, who have always seen me as a Man first and a King second, and treated me accordingly.”

“What are you saying, Aragorn?” asked Éowyn quietly.

“I love you.”

“Oh my,” Éowyn murmured somewhat breathlessly as she fell back against the pillows, her wet hair tumbling down around her. “But what of your claim, when first you proposed marriage to me, that your heart would forever belong to another and that you would never be able to love me as I deserve? What of that?”

“It was all a lie — but to myself, not to you. I had bound myself to Arwen in my youth; it would have been dishonorable of me to release her from our vows without just cause. And then I met you.” Here, Aragorn smiled at her so gently and with such tenderness that Éowyn’s heart was moved. “Your desire to win renown on the field of battle was an inspiration and I found myself inexorably drawn to you. But my feelings frightened me and so I clung all the more to the past — and my promise to Arwen. You were like a breath of fresh air — or a warhorse, perhaps: not wild, but not tame either — while Arwen was safe and familiar, a plodding palfrey.”

Éowyn couldn’t help herself: she giggled at this description of an elf-maid who was known far and wide as the Evenstar of her people. Aragorn smiled, sharing in her merriment. “But if you thought that you loved her,” asked Éowyn, sobering, “then why didn’t you marry her when first you two met?”

“I wished to — in fact, I would have liked nothing better — but her father Lord Elrond forbade our union until I was crowned king of both Gondor and Arnor, an edict that Arwen and I were forced to obey.”

As they had been speaking, Aragorn had gradually encroached on Éowyn’s space until he now sat on the bed beside her. Rather than object, Éowyn took Aragorn’s hand in hers and began to trace the valleys and mountains that his knuckles formed. He watched her work, noting the look of fierce concentration on her face and how her tongue poked out from between her teeth. At peace for the moment, he let Éowyn continue with her ministrations, gasping in surprise when she raised their joined hands to her lips and kissed his open palm.

“Long have I loved you, Aragorn,” she confessed. “And I was content to suffer in silence, thinking my love unrequited. But to hear that you feel likewise gives me much joy.”

“It pains me to think of you suffering at all while under my care,” Aragorn groaned lowly, drawing Éowyn to him and holding her close to his breast, “for I have wished thee joy since first I saw thee.” They remained thusly for many moments, Éowyn drawing strength from having Aragorn’s arms around her. “Forgive me my jealousy,” he at last whispered in her ear.

“I have always tried my best to please you, both as a wife and a queen, and shall continue to do so,” Éowyn promised him in return.

“Meanwhile I have been less-than appreciative of your efforts, my darling, my only love.” Aragorn punctuated these endearments with kisses peppered across Éowyn’s face and brow. “Let me rectify that now.”

So saying he took Éowyn in his arms and began slowly to undress her, revealing inch by tantalizing inch of her lily-white skin. Her sea-grey eyes were wide with wonderment, Aragorn having but rarely visited her chambers in all the months of their marriage. Where before he had forced himself to view their love-making as a duty and nothing else, he now made a concerted effort to please Éowyn, taking the time to pepper her entire body with kisses and ensuring that they both received pleasure from the experience.

“Éowyn,” whispered Aragorn hoarsely as he loomed over her in the bed, “will you marry me?”

“We are man and wife already, Aragorn,” she replied with much effort, her husband’s exertions having quite robbed her of breath. “What need have we to get married again?”

“Because I love you now as I never fully allowed myself to before.”

At that, Éowyn raised her hand to cup his cheek and pull his face down towards her for a kiss. “Yes, Aragorn, I _will_ marry you — and gladly!”

And so it was that several months later — exactly a year to the day — the Fellowship came together once more. While the kingdom of Gondor celebrated the first anniversary of their monarchs’ marriage, Aragorn and Éowyn left the White City in Faramir’s capable hands, instead choosing to venture out into the wilds of Middle-earth rather than attend the celebrations that were being thrown in their honor. They were met by their closest friends, former companions and brothers-in-arms alike.

Enough time had passed since Aragorn’s revelation and the couple’s subsequent reconciliation that Éowyn was now visibly with child. There were congratulations all around before Aragorn eventually raised his hands for silence. “I am a thing of the wild that has been chained to a crown and a throne for far too long,” he said, “and while I have accepted the burden of kingship, even a king must escape from his cares and responsibilities for a time. It heals my heart to be reunited with you all and to be together in peace-time much as we were in war.”

Gandalf now stepped forward. “We come together on this night to bear witness to the union of Aragorn and Éowyn, who — though already married — desire to once more be joined together in matrimony.” Aragorn and Éowyn came to stand before Gandalf, who was again presiding over the ceremony. Their vows were spoken, solemnized and sealed with a kiss, at which point the Company erupted into cheers around them.

Aragorn and Éowyn, for their part, had eyes only for each other. Much as he had after first proposing to her, Aragorn raised Éowyn’s hands to his lips, a gallant gesture to which she responded with a beatific smile. And when Éowyn tilted her head up to receive his kiss, Aragorn felt his heart soar and take flight into the diamond-studded sky above them.


End file.
